


The Ghost of You

by cashdst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Character Death, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cashdst/pseuds/cashdst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year of 1944, war raged through Europe. Over the Atlantic, in the States, Dean and Castiel decided to try to make the world a better place, and was there a better way to do it than to rid it of a few Nazis?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of You

**Author's Note:**

> I hate myself for writing this, but the idea demanded to be written. Inspired by and loosely based on the video for My Chemical Romance's The Ghost of You. My first attempt at Dean/Cas fanfiction.

The men ate their meal in silence. They both had too much on their minds to talk about and no way to bring it up, even though they were thinking about the same things. 

What would happen to them?

They had heard stories about men that had changed wars, and wars that had changed men. They hoped to be in the first category, but feared they they'd end up in the second. Of course, there was a third category, the unspeakable one, the one where most men ended up; the men that the wars devoured, the sacrifice they demanded. 

Castiel lowered his fork, at a loss of appetite – or rather, no appetite to begin with. He looked onto his plate, it was a delicious meal altogether, but he couldn't bring himself to chew, let alone swallow. He didn't look up from the tablecloth even as Dean spoke, he was counting fibers to keep his mind off... everything. 

“Don't worry,” Dean said, smiling softly. “We'll be okay.” Castiel could only nod violently. Dean's thumb drew small circles on the back of Castiel's hand, reassuring him. “It'll be okay,” Dean repeated. 

“I know,” Castiel replied. “It's just that--”

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Dean said, tilting Castiel's chin up with his thumb, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Don't think about it. Not tonight. Please, be just mine tonight.” At this, Castiel smiled thinly and looked into his beloved's eyes and knew that if he looked hard enough, he would see the same fear in them that he himself felt taking over, more and more. 

Dean smiled suddenly, an idea had clearly sprung to his mind, and he rushed from the table over to the phonograph and winded it up, making soft music play from the machine. Dean extended a hand for Castiel to take, and with a smile he said: “Come here.”

Castiel rose to his feet, and Dean put his hands on Castiel's shoulder, his waist, and pulled him close, spinning them into a slow dance not quite in rhythm with the music. Castiel smiled and nuzzled into the side of Dean's neck, breathing him in and thinking that he could never ever get enough of this. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine a time when they could do this in public, he wanted to take Dean dancing and being able to kiss him during a meal at a fancy restaurant. 

Sometimes, he imagined them kissing in front of Herr Hitler and daring him to lock them away, kill them because they weren't “normal”. 

Castiel dragged his hands over Dean's hips, untucking his shirt from his pants and running his fingers over the fabric of the undershirt, teasing, and he could feel Dean shudder under his touch. Castiel smirked lightly against Dean's neck and pressed a light kiss right below his earlobe. They kept on dancing back and forth in the small room, swaying slightly to the music, a bit more unfocused now than just a minute before. Dean slowly pulled away and Castiel felt abruptly cold, but it ended as Dean pressed his lips to the corner of Castiel's mouth, making him hum low.

“Don't stop,” Dean breathed as Castiel withdrew his fingers from the sharp, bony angles of Dean's hips. As Dean bit kisses along Castiel's jaw, he crushed their bodies closer together, wanting to feel all of him, all his warmth and his small tremors when Dean continued to kiss down his neck, his throat, claiming Castiel as he bit lightly into the skin, sucking a mark before licking soothingly at it. Dean relished in the desperate noises Castiel fought so hard to keep in, he moved back up to swallow them and loved the feeling that he was the only one that could make Castiel lose control. 

Castiel moved his hands to Dean's chest, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, kissing more furiously than ever before. Panting breaths, despairing moans and whispered professions of love floated around then, neither of them caring about the outside world at the moment, all that mattered was there between them right there, right then. 

–

They lay in bed, sheets tangled underneath them, clutching onto each other tightly, never ever wanting to let go, stealing a kiss here, a touch there. Ghosting his hands over Dean's back, Castiel whispered “I wish we didn't...”

“I know,” Dean said under his breath, bringing his hand to rest on Castiel's cheek, stroking his thumb over the faint stubble there. “Me too.”

Castiel gazed deep into Dean's eyes, and for a moment he felt centuries, millenniums, eons old. He buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck and stifled a sob, causing Dean to hum reassuringly, running his fingers over Castiel's back, up and down. 

“I'm scared, Dean,” Castiel confessed, feeling hot tears rolling down his cheeks making Dean's chest wet, soaking into the pillow under them. 

“I know,” Dean said, voice trembling and barely holding together. “But remember why we're doing this.” When Castiel didn't do anything more than nod, Dean continued. “We're going to save the world, right? We're going to hunt those sons of bitches down and we're going kill them like the animals they are. We won't...” Dean's voice wavered, but he cleared his throat and carried on. “We won't back down,   
'cause we're better than them and we know it. We--” His voice broke completely, and he ran his hand over his eyes, and when it came back to rest on Castiel's hip it was damp and cold. 

“I know,” Castiel whispered into Dean's neck, kissing it lightly. “We will save the world and then come back here, we'll grow old together, right?” He didn't wait for Dean to answer, knowing he would hardly be able to. He continued, his voice growing thicker with every tear that escaped his eyes. “We'll save them, all of them and then it'll just be you and me for the rest of our lives.” The last word broke Castiel, and the both men could do no more than to hold on tight for the rest of the night. 

–

They had barely looked at each other since America. It hurt, but they both knew that it was necessary, they were going to save the world from the Nazis after all. At least, it was what they told themselves to make it bearable. 

It had been too many nights of little or no sleep, Dean had been listening for Castiel's breaths, his hands traveling the bed just to realize that there was no one there. Now, though, Dean's eyes were fixed on the back of Castiel's neck as he stood a few rows in front of him. 

It was the sixth of June 1944 and they were going to Omaha Beach. It was the day that would begin to win the war, the day that was going to make history. Dean was sure that the historians would portray this day as a heavenly battle, everything was going to glow and the day would end with a silver lining. But when Dean stood there swaying on the vessel that would take them to shore, smelling vomit, the salty sea, men bunched together and all the fear, he knew that this day would not be the glorious victory that they all had hoped for. He couldn't see anything in front of the boat, the fog was too thick and he wouldn't be able to even if there hadn't been any fog; the rain was coming down in white sheets and the view was obscured by the six feet high waves. 

To keep himself from being sick, he kept his gaze locked on the back of Castiel's head. From behind him, he could hear them calling out: “Keep steady boys! Almost there...!”

Castiel didn't know where Dean was. He knew that they were on the same boat, and there was a little reassurance in that, but only a little. Fidgeting with the hem of his coat, his rifle, everything he could get his hands on, he tried to calm himself, but it was nearly impossible, and frankly, rather unnecessary, seeing as he would forget all about his nervousness, his anxiety, as soon as the officers lowered the ramp. He looked forward to and dreaded that moment simultaneously. 

He turned slightly to look behind him and caught sight of Dean, who flashed him a wolfish grin despite all the things that went down around them. He smiled back, daring the world to come and get them. 

Today, they were invincible. 

“Thirty seconds!” the man behind them shouted. An officer began to walk amongst them, speaking as he did so. “You know what to do, kill as many of these sons of bitches as you possibly can, I want ten German dogs for each of your heads, you hear me! God be with you.”

And with that, the ramp fell. The first three rows of men got mangled down by Nazi rounds almost immediately, the rest of the men threw themselves overboard into the ice cold Atlantic. Dean tried to look for Castiel, but it was impossible, and he unceremoniously prayed to God that he was all right. He forced himself through the water, gear heavy and pulling him down. Throwing himself towards the beach, he swore that he could hear a bullet graze his helmet, but didn't have enough time to care for that and just kept going. He lunged behind a huge iron obstacle, breathing heavily, trying to figure out what he should do. 

The attack had not gone as planned. The enemies were too many, too well-trained, most of their own tanks had sunk to the bottom of the Channel and the weather had hardly made things easier. It was a disaster, to put it lightly. 

Castiel had taken cover behind a sand bank after crawling through more blood and guts than water. His ears were ringing from a bomb that had flung the wet sand high up in the air ten meters from him, his eyes watering from all the salt all around them. Looking to his left, he spotted Dean, who was crouching behind one of the ship obstacles. As he caught his gaze, Dean grinned again, making all of Castiel's fears disappear. Of course they would make it. How couldn't they?

Dean looked away from him and Castiel felt a little emptier, and he could see that Dean was thinking hard. A body came down had beside Castiel, making him jump in surprise. He looked over his shoulder and saw that it was Gabriel, alive and kicking. He tried to gesture “are you okay?” since he could neither hear nor be heard, but was unsuccessful seeing as Gabriel only scowled back at him. 

Instead of focusing on Gabriel, he turned his mind back to Dean, who was still there, looking away at the Germans' fire in the distance. Castiel tried to call out for him, but some sand got caught in his throat and he began to cough violently. When he looked up again, Dean crashed forward towards the Germans, rifle at the ready. Castiel could feel his voice breaking as he screamed Dean's name after him. 

One bullet grazed his leg, making Dean buckle down into the sand. He was on his knees, he turned around to look at Castiel before another round hit him square in the chest, flinging him onto his back. 

“Dean!” Castiel screamed, trying to rush over to him but was held down by Gabriel and another man he didn't recognize. “Dean!” His eyes darted over to a medic a few meters over, crying “Save him! Help him, damn it!”

The medic scrambled over to Dean, his hands running over the bloody mess that was his chest, searching his right leg pocket for his bandages, shoving them harshly into the wounds, making Dean cry out. His eyes searched for Castiel's and smiled thinly, before going slack altogether. 

Castiel didn't recognize his own voice, harsh and raw, as he called Dean's name over and over again, still held back by Gabriel, who was shouting “He's gone, there's nothing you can do!” in his ear. He could feel the shards of his life shatter underneath his boots as he struggled free from Gabriel and flung himself over Dean's still warm body, kissing him. His lips became sticky with the blood and raw with the sand that clung to them. Touching Dean's face with his hand, he closed his eyes. 

“I'm sorry, Dean,” he said out loud even though he knew that he wouldn't hear. Castiel sat beside Dean, holding his hand while around them it was storming bullets, bombs, people screaming in agony. “I'm sorry,” he repeated and pressed another kiss to Dean's unresponsive lips. “I have to leave now, but I'll love you always, okay, my dearly beloved?” He motioned to close Dean's eyes but couldn't; the vibrant green was just too much for Castiel in the gray world he had sunk into. He wanted something to hold on to even as his whole life lay dead at his feet. Instead, he stroked Dean's cheek again, reassuring him that he would kill some sons of bitches. 

Castiel turned around again to face the Germans, and he was ready now. He would win this war or die trying. He was going to save the world.


End file.
